


The Perfect First Valentine’s Day

by Skyler10



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s04e13 Journey's End, Slow Dancing, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 03:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13627854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyler10/pseuds/Skyler10
Summary: Tentoo and Rose arrive back in London from Bad Wolf Bay only to realize it is Valentine’s Day.





	The Perfect First Valentine’s Day

**Author's Note:**

> DoctorRosePrompts via affectionatesuggestion: the record player is playing a slow song. we sway together your face pressed into the crook of my neck. you ask if we will get married some day. my heart skips a beat and I tell you “of course”.
> 
> Fic soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CVUOTzoVeZA&list=PLpNPyNGfa7sB9JgiBryX235HKscd94koc

They sleep most of the way on the zeppelin, fingers entwined. Connected, yet so much to say. But for now – rest.

They stumble, still half-asleep, into the airport, and he is distracted by the shining hearts hanging from the ceiling, candy boxes in every shop window, jewelry stores boasting sales. She sends him a quizzical expression before the lightbulb clicks.

It’s Valentine’s Day.

They have arrived back in this universe, permanently, on the day of love.

The symbolism is enough to make her want to scream and cry and laugh and pull him close for another snog. He sends her a devilish smirk as he catches her eyeing his lips and she almost gives in, but then their luggage arrives and it’s all hustle and bustle to reunite with Pete and Tony, load into the car, and answer a barrage of questions until the questions outnumber the answers.

Pete comes to a crucial one: the question of identity. Pete believes him when he says he is the Doctor. He doesn’t quite understand, but Pete Tyler has always been a man with an open mind and a good deal of strange things have crossed his path in the last few years. No, it’s not who the Doctor really is that is the issue. It’s who he wants to be.

The Doctor is sure there is a thinly veiled fatherly speech hiding in those words regarding intentions, but for practical purposes, Pete is asking about official identity papers. The Doctor will need to create a permanent pseudonym. Not for use among those who know him, and Pete assures him should he chose to advise at Torchwood he can use whatever name he likes, but for things like a passport and birth certificate and ID card.

The car falls silent. The Doctor asks for a bit of time to think about it. Rose sends him a nod and a smile of understanding, and Pete assures him it’s perfectly fine. Big decision, after all, even if he isn’t going to go by it in daily life.

The thing is, the Doctor knows. Has known for years what his preferred pseudonym would be.

He’s fine with “John” – an ordinary name for an extraordinary man, as Sarah Jane had said. And even with a human lifespan, there is no denying that he is still factually, objectively extraordinary. A forgettable name could serve him well. Perhaps “Jonathan” in full. Sounds younger. Rose and Jonathan.  Jonathan and Rose Tyler.

Jonathan Tyler.

He is too embarrassed to say it aloud in this car, especially seeing as they don’t fully grasp how he has even come into existence, but he has dreamt of being part of Rose’s family since that Christmas after he regenerated. And not only as Rose’s… well, whatever she wants him to be.

That is the question, isn’t it? Bit presumptuous to name himself “Tyler” if he is only here as a friend or some sort of time-and-space-traveling coworker. The kiss on the beach certainly didn’t feel as if it was from a mere assistant or traveling companion, but he didn’t want to assume that “together” meant more for her romantically… At any rate, it’s certainly too soon to ask her to marry him.

They stop for takeaway, and at Rose’s request, drop her and the Doctor off at her flat. Pete promises they’ll talk in the morning, Jackie and Tony hug them goodbye, and they are alone.

For the first time.

She inhales a heavy breath and opens the door. Then follows a whirlwind tour, including a slightly rambling explanation of why it includes Mickey’s now-vacated bedroom, which will now be the Doctor’s. (“It’s not what you think. Mickey and I… we weren’t like that here. He was like a brother, really. We were always working and it just made sense…” He cuts her off with a gentle reassurance that he believes her.)

They eat their takeaway on the sofa. She considers him for a moment and bites her lip, making his heart stutter.

“Look at us.” The way she says it, she sounds far more grown up than he remembers. She’s matured. He finds himself experiencing a new sensation: Where fear at a loved one’s aging once resided, now he finds he can’t wait to explore all the ways she’s changed. And he has no doubt in his mind she has flourished here, despite the pain and terror and work and exhaustion and circumstances.

She realizes he isn’t going to respond and goes on.

“All those years. And here we are, eating takeaway as if we’re an old married couple.” She laughs, then flounders a bit as she realizes what she has implied. “Not that we have to, but I just meant, with it being Valentine’s Day… and here we are at home.”

“ _Home_ ,” he takes her hand to be clear in his meaning, “is perfect.”

“Yeah?” The hope in her eyes is too much to bear. He nods and stands, setting his Styrofoam box aside.

“Besides, we can have a Valentine’s date right here.” He holds out a hand. She takes it and stands. “Have you got any music?”

She smiles that smile he’d once destroyed a sun to see one last time. “I’ve got just the thing.”

She pulls out a stereo disguised as a record player, not what he’d been expecting, in the exact shade of pink as her dress for ~~Elvis~~ the Queen’s coronation.

He doesn’t recognize the song, something unique to this world, but the soft crooning of love and belonging and romance are perfect for his cause. He pulls her close, and they sway together in silence.

On the second song, she gently asks about the conversation in the car. They don’t have to talk about it now, but does he have any thoughts?

He has so many thoughts, but none that answer her question. He thinks about the honey of her eyes and the pink of her ample lips and the curve of her waist beneath his hands. He thinks of the exhaustion in her body and the haunted expression he caught her wearing as she stared out the car window. He thinks of how he wants to hear every story of her years without him and ensure they are never apart again. He wants to take her on a wild adventure and protect her, to grow their TARDIS and a garden, to spend some nights like this dancing by the light of the telly and eating takeaway, and other nights under foreign auroras at feasts to gods and saints that won’t be born for a thousand years.  

She waits patiently for him to answer but pulls back to see his reaction.

“I think I have a name picked,” he blurts out.

“Oh?” She tries not to say it as if her heart is racing, but he still has his Time Lord senses.

“Jonathan.” He shrugs under her forearms, which are resting on his shoulders with her thumb tracing gentle circles at the top of his spine.

“I like it.” She meets his eyes, and he exhales in relief but knows there is a next question coming. His Rose doesn’t miss a beat. “You’ll need a surname too, you know.”

He ducks his head and mumbles. “Dunno, thoughtI’dtakeyours.”

“What’s that?”

He straightens and tells her, “Jonathan… Tyler. Dr. Tyler, more often, I assume. Usually if one’s reading off an official form or something, one would be more formal. More formal, forms are.”

“Yeah,” she exhales, speechless. Somehow they are still swaying, dancing around the point as they are.

“I just thought…” he rambles on, “if we were to, someday, you know, you wouldn’t have to change your name, not that you would have to anyway! It just might be easier if I…”

She stretches up and silences him with a light kiss to his lips, then nuzzles into his neck. Instinctually, he wraps his arms around her tighter, never wanting to let go.

“Doctor,” she whispers, not wanting to shatter the sacredness of the moment, “what’s it gonna be like, this one, human, ordinary life together?”

He accepts the invitation and speaks boldly. “Oh, it won’t be ordinary at all, I can assure you of that.”

“I bet you can,” she giggles. “ _What_ though? What do you want it to be?”

“You and me, forever, Rose Tyler. As long as our forever allows. We grow our TARDIS and travel this world and all the worlds out there. We can run for our lives and be home for your mum’s Sunday roast and build a life all our own. We can bicker and tease and make up at the end of the day.” She laughs and he does too, knowing that for all the fights he and Rose will surely encounter, they will do anything to make it up to each other. “As you said, we’re already an old married couple.”

“Dr. Jonathan _Tyler_ ,” she draws it out like he does when he says her name. “Does that mean you think we’ll be gettin’ married some day?”

“That depends. I’d say it certainly factors into my blueprints we’re drawing here. But the important thing is do _you_ think we will?”

She presses a kiss to his collarbone and hums happily in her Doctor’s arms. “Of course. Who else crosses universes to be together, then spends Valentine’s Day eating takeaway and dancing in front of the sofa without music?”

He realizes the playlist ended in the time they have been talking and dreaming.

The love written in her gaze up at him breaks through any restraint he had left. He leans down and captures her lips in a searing kiss until she is weak in the knees. And even then, they simply relocate to cuddle and snog on the sofa.

Perhaps their first Valentine’s Day is perfectly romantic after all.

 

 

 


End file.
